The foster child arrived in the kind of tremulous, hesitant rain that inspired e.e. cummings to write, “No one, not even the rain, has such small hands.” In retrospect, it seemed appropriate.

Sandi Fletcher peeked out the window to see an adolescent slumped on the doorstep of their apartment building in Baltimore. Like others of her kind, the lonely figure had rosewood-colored skin, pointed ears, and silver eyes. Most Elves were slender, but this one looked starved. Her rapidly soaking gray gown clung to her frame. She sat beside a leather pack and cradled something in her hand.

When Sandi opened the door, she saw this girl was observing an earthworm. In fact, she was speaking to it, in a voice much softer than someone who looked fourteen should have.

“We share many similarities, fragility and softness being the main ones. However, you are essential to the ecosystem, while I am more a burden upon it.”

Sandi enveloped her in her lean, strong arms. “You’re a joy, Delpinet. I can tell already.”

“Call me my human name. I must forget who I was.” She pulled away and regarded her new mother – more like a sister, actually, since she was around thirty. A slow smile of helpless disbelief stretched her mouth. “I hurt you not?”

“No.”

“I hurt you not! It is greater than I imagined.” She deposited the worm on the grass, hands shaking, and tears in her voice. “You must be Sandi.”

“You must be Charity. You also must be wet. Come in.” Sandi took her lone piece of baggage and led the way.

Charity treaded lightly through the hall, dripping a bit. “I have studied the human world in preparation for my coming. I see these are electric lights.” It was a friendly hall, with energy-saving, soft bulbs, and murals of forests. It was a poor substitute for Charity’s actual woodland home, but Sandi hoped to make up for it in other ways.

“Yes. Why did your ride – I mean, Rowan – leave you in the rain?”

“I told her she could. She knows little about social conventions, which is understandable for a dryad. Is your husband waiting for us?”

“He will be here in a few hours, since he’s busy at the Lyric Opera. Up the stairs.”

“I never met a half-Elf half-Eudemon before. Nor a – a – what are you?”

At the top of the stairs, Sandi briefly slid in and out of wolf shape. “A shapeshifter. You may consider me guardian and pet, all in one.”

“It is a relief to not cause pain.” Charity sneezed.

“You need a hot ba- ba- I mean – you need a – you need to – BATHE.” Wolves were essentially wild dogs, and some of the tendencies still remained, like an aversion towards bathing. Her human side didn’t mind, but her wolf nature rebelled. She sometimes skipped it for up to three days, until her husband complained.

They entered the apartment, which was divided by a wall of green, living bamboo. The kitchen, dining table, single bed, and large sleeping basket were all on one side. Glow-in-the-dark stars spotted the ceiling and walls. On one end of the dining table were photos of humans, Elves, and vampires, all hugging each other and smiling.

“How does bathing work in this setting?” Charity asked, after taking it all in. “I like the stars.”

Sandi placed Charity’s luggage on the floor. “I like the real stars best, but I can’t see them every night. Do you know anything about running water?”

“You turn something, and water flows, correct? I would enjoy seeing that.” She was about five inches shorter than Sandi, and kept her head low, never meeting her eyes. “You like me.”

Charity opened up her bag, which contained only six dresses, two sleeping robes, and a few books. She selected one, but Sandi put it back, explaining, “In the culture of this city, dresses like this are used for religious ceremonies and special occasions. I have some casual clothes for you, but I had to guess the size. We can go buy clothes later.”

With a little gasp, Charity sank to the floor. “Crowds…people…feeling…” Her hands shook.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I forgot. We’ll try to figure it out. Let’s get you washed up.” Sandi led her into the bathroom. “You can wash standing up, but I’m sure you’re more familiar with a bath.”

“Yes.” Charity ran her finger along the faucet. “It is very smooth and shiny.”

Sandi turned on the water. “I’ll go get an outfit for you.”

Charity caught her arm. “Wait, please. Do not leave me alone. I have been too alone.”

“It’s only a minute.”

“Months with no contact except for distant shrieks when people come too near, is how much I have been alone.”

Sandi felt herself melting from the words, and gave her another hug. “Okay. I’ll try not to leave you alone.”

“Can you be here with me when I bathe?” Seeing Sandi’s look, she added, “I would be behind a curtain, of course. I wish to speak to you as much as possible.”

Charity knew how to undress underneath a towel, and held out the towel from behind the curtain for Sandi to take. Sandi sat on the floor, hugging her knees. She could see the scrawny silhouette of her new charge.

“Ahh!” There was a splash.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone is on the other side of this wall; a man. Angry.” Charity began to hyperventilate. “He is so very furious!”

“Here, hold my hand.” Sandi stuck hers under the curtain, touching something wet and slippery. Charity’s breath slowed. “You have to learn how to deal with other people’s feelings.”

She laughed, a bitter sound. “I am an adolescent! It is hard enough dealing with my own.”

“I know, I know. Puffin said he had an idea that might help. Is the hot water pleasant?”

“Yes.” Charity withdrew her hand. “I appreciate the moral support, but it is difficult applying soap with one hand. Please keep talking. Who is Puffin?”

“My husband.”

“I thought his name was Pafin – in your language, He-Who-Brings-Hope-of-Peace.”

Sandi chuckled. “It is, but humans perpetually pronounce it wrong, so we call him Puffin. A puffin is a sea bird known for looking rather silly and having a brightly colored bill in the mating season.”

“I do not know if you know, but Elves believe that a name predetermines someone’s nature. What does your name mean?”

“Well, my full name is Cassandra Selene Spiralli Fletcher. Cassandra is my great-aunt’s name, and it’s also the name of a character in an old story. She was cursed to always know the future, yet have no one believe her until it was too late. It can also mean someone very beautiful, but that didn’t work out with me. Selene is my grandmother, and also the goddess of the moon, appropriate for a wolfgirl. Spiralli just means spirals, I think, so I go around in circles. And a fletcher makes arrows and other weapons.”

“What should I call you?”

“Sandi is fine. Puffin and I will be your guardians, but you don’t need the confusion of another mother when you miss yours so much.”

Charity’s voice became odd – deep, really. “Cease! Cease…I will rip your lungs out! I will smash your skull open. How dare you? How dare you?”

Sandi grabbed her hand again. “Charity, this isn’t you. What’s happening?”

“Let go of me! Born of dogs and product of sodomy between siblings!”

“I love you, Charity. Do you feel that?”

Then came the sound of weeping. “His anger overwhelms my emotions. Please forgive me…DIE!” It sounded like Charity was banging her head against the wall. “No, no, no. I soak up the feelings of others, and then I feel it too. My own feelings are overwhelmed.”

Sandi handed her a towel. “You need to rest. You’re probably overwrought.”

“Like wrought iron…heehee.” Charity giggled and came out dripping. Her brown hair hung in tangled strands, long as seaweed. “Turn your back, but please do not leave me.”

Charity was unfamiliar with a human style brassiere, which created some awkwardness, but Sandi eventually managed to set her aright. She also never wore pants before, and didn’t know that a tag inside the shirt would be on the back.

Sandi brought Charity some soup, and as Charity sipped it, Sandi rubbed her hair with a different towel. “Does the possession happen frequently?”

“It depends how intense others around me are feeling. Thank goodness it was not like that when Connor – oh. Never mind. Though I suppose that is where it started.” Charity sighed, heaving her stick-like shoulders, and bent closer to the soup as if she wanted to kiss it.

“What’s all this about?”

“I would rather not speak about it as yet. Not in my current mood.”

Sandi tried to change the subject. “Hey, what level of magic have you reached? Rowan said you were very talented.”

“Talented at everything BUT magic,” Charity muttered. “I speak Elvish, English, and Spanish, I can hunt, run, and fish, my cooking is fairly good, and I have a greater grasp of technology, at least in theory, than all the others in the village. But I cannot do a single spell.”

“It’s all right. I can’t either.”

Charity looked at her with the expression teenagers use for unhelpful moms. My goodness, Sandi thought, I’m embarrassing her already. I have a real jump-start on parenting.

“Spells require emotional control. When I am being buffeted fore and aft by everything everyone within a few miles feels; I cannot control any of it at all. Nothing happens.”

Sandi rubbed her shoulders. “I have emotional control, but only because I would cease to be human if I didn’t. It took years of training.”

“What do you mean? You made a fine soup, incidentally.”

“Puffin made the soup. I can’t cook at all. Being a shapeshifter is different than being a werewolf. Shapeshifters change based on our emotions. My mother once felt so upset that she was stuck as a wolf for several hours, and her parents thought she was gone.”

“Gone?”

“There is something all people who can change into an animal fear: never being able to change back. One of my mother’s cousins is gone. They released him in Yellowstone. He’s been sighted occasionally, but they can only tell by a yellow collar they attached to him. For a vampire, being gone is different. They usually are still humanoid, but they have lost their empathy, compassion, and restraint. I think every species has a form of being gone.”

Charity shivered. “I fear being gone too – simply losing myself in a sea of feeling, and never having my own emotions any more.” She yawned.

“You should take a nap. Do you want to sleep in my bed, so things can be quiet? I have some bills to pay.”

“What are bills?”

Sandi explained the concept, and Charity yawned again. “I am not bored, merely tired. Your presence is fine, but what about the emotions of other people in this building?”

“You’ll just have to chance it. At least you can lie down.”

While in bed, Charity cried for a while, but at least this time it was because of her own feelings. Sandi came to check up on her, and she had tunneled to the foot of the bed, a hard lump under the covers.

“Charity, do you want me to do something for you?”

Her voice was muffled but still intelligible. “Please avoid feeling things so strongly. I thank you for your concern, but it is a little overwhelming.”

“Can you sense the emotions of animals?”

“No.”

“Then come out.”

Charity emerged to find a well-groomed, friendly wolf sitting beside her. Charity held onto Sandi and wept. “I miss my mother, father, and siblings.”

Sandi whined in sympathy.

“I am not the only one with problems, you know. They are all very sick. I wish I could help them, but my being around only makes things worse. And Whylfber…”

But at least she was crying for her own reasons, she thought.

It was kind of nice, in a sad way.